


Snowstorms and Insomnia

by gluedwithgold



Series: But They're Brothers! [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Insomnia, Insomniac Sam, M/M, Pre-Series, Pre-Slash, Protective Dean Winchester, Schmoop, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 15:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10310921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluedwithgold/pseuds/gluedwithgold
Summary: Sam can't sleep.





	

Dean woke, not peacefully, but not quite panicked. That sense that something wasn’t right was nagging at the back of his mind, not setting off alarms – nothing that bad – but definitely telling him something needed attention. He opened his eyes slowly and let them focus in the dim orange glow of the fireplace, taking in the dark wood of the cabin and the looming shapes of the furniture. It took just a few seconds for him to recognize why he’d woken up – Sam wasn’t in the bed next to him where he was supposed to be, safe and warm – and he scanned around the room till he found the silhouette of his brother framed against the twilight white of the snowy window. 

He took a moment just to watch, his eyes tracing the outline of his brother – his best friend, his other half, his  _ reason  _ – trying to suss out why he was up, sitting there at two in the morning watching the snow fall. Sam didn’t get much quiet time alone, and if that’s all it was, Dean was fine with letting him have it. But the protector in him had to be sure, so he watched. 

Sam was curled up on the wide windowsill, his long, gangly legs pulled up with his arms wrapped around his knees. His head was resting on his knees, mop of shaggy hair falling over his wrists. The dim light was just enough to see how his t-shirt draped off his shoulders, flowing down his back, coming to an end just above the waistband of his sweats – just short enough to leave a small strip of skin exposed to the air. 

He’d lost weight in the few months they’d been holed up here – Dean could see it clearly now with Sam sitting so still. His constant, frenetic teenage energy made it hard to take stock in the daylight. Dean made a mental note to rummage through the cupboards tomorrow and find that brownie mix – maybe sparking the kid’s sweet tooth would get his appetite going again. But tonight wasn’t that problem… tonight was the problem of why Sam wasn’t sleeping, and just then Dean saw the clue he needed when Sam took in a deep breath and his chest stuttered and shook. 

“Sammy?” Dean said, just above a whisper as he propped himself up on an elbow. “Why’re you up?” 

Sam lifted his head and turned toward Dean, his face mapped out in shadows and dim light. 

“Can’t sleep.” He lifted his shoulders in a tiny shrug, almost imperceptible, and turned his head back toward the window. “Just watching the snow.” 

“Nightmare?” Dean asked, even though he knew that wasn’t it – he knew he would have woken up as soon as Sam had if it’d been a nightmare. 

“Nah. I never fell asleep.” Sam’s voice was quiet, resigned, like he wished it had been a nightmare, like that would’ve been preferable. 

“Sam… c’mere…” Dean pulled the covers back and waited while Sam sighed, took one last moment to watch the snow falling outside the window, then unfolded himself from the windowsill and slunk over to the bed. He slid down onto the lumpy mattress of the pull-out couch and folded his legs, rested his forearms on his knees. “What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know… it’s just…” Sam gave another tiny shrug, let out a slow sigh when Dean reached up and brushed a wild tuft of hair behind his ear. “I feel like an asshole.” 

“What?” Dean spoke louder than he intended, sitting up a little straighter. “Why?” 

“Because…” Sam lowered his head, picked up a fold of the blanket and toyed it between his fingers. “All this time I’ve always bitched to Dad about how much I hate moving around all the time. But now, we’ve been here so long and I thought I’d like that, but I don’t. All I can think about is getting out of here. Guess I didn’t know what it was like to stay put, what I thought I wanted.” 

“Sammy…” Dean chuckled lightly. “This here? This isn’t what it’s like to stay put. Dude, we’ve been snowed in for a week, and this place is in the fucking boonies. You’ve got cabin fever, that’s all. Guess we’ve never stayed anywhere long enough for you to know what that’s like.” 

“Really? That’s it?” Sam’s eyebrows disappeared under his hair that’d fallen across his forehead again. 

“Yeah, Sam, that’s it. I’m itching to get out of here, too – even just go for a walk outside. You’re not an asshole, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay.” Sam huffed a quick laugh. “I’m still kind of an asshole though. I really shouldn’t give Dad such a hard time. I just feel like a freak all the time.” 

“Well, because you are a freak.” A grin spread across Dean’s face. “And a geek. Probably a bigger geek than a freak.” 

“Shut up!” Sam swatted at Dean’s shoulder half-heartedly and they both chuckled. 

“Listen, we’re different, no doubt. What we do makes us different, and even if we stopped and settled down somewhere, we’d still be different, just because we know what we know, we’ve seen what we’ve seen. I know right now it doesn’t seem like it, because kids are assholes – especially teenagers – but just because we’re different doesn’t make us better or worse. Different is just... different.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam sighed long and slow, then shifted on the bed, tucking his legs under the covers and laying back. 

“Think you can sleep now?” Dean watched as Sam nodded, a yawn pulling his breath in sharply. Dean leaned over and put a hand to the side of Sam’s head while he laid a quick kiss to his temple before laying back on his side of the bed. “Maybe tomorrow if it’s not snowing too bad we can go outside. Make a snowman. We’ll make it a wendigo, freak the fuck outta Dad when he gets back.” 

Sam chuckled. 

“Okay,” he said, tugging the covers up his chest. “Thanks, Dean.” 

“Night, bitch.” 

Dean waited a few seconds for the expected ‘night jerk’, but it never came. When he looked over, Sam’s eyes were closed, his body relaxed in sleep. He watched for a minute, watched the peace and innocence on his little brother’s face. As he drifted back to sleep himself, he wished they could stay here forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a ficlet born of my own insomnia. 
> 
> Unbeta'd - all mistakes are my own.


End file.
